by Rob Rosen
Lothar, rocking his ass into the prince’s mighty prick, said, “Now reach around and stroke my cock, good prince. I believe you’ll find a surprising trick we fairies are little known for.”
Nathan, eager to see yet another one of this creature’s amazing capabilities, pressed his head down on Lothar’s broad back and reached around his wasp-narrow waist to jack at his cock. The fairy’s wings folded over and around the prince’s torso, enveloping him in a veritable blanket as soft as velvet. And then, to Nathan’s utter surprise, the fairy’s cock shook and began to grow. With each stroke of his fist, the already large dick stretched and stretched, at first straight down, but then through its owner’s legs, until the prince suddenly felt the shiny head butting up against his virgin hole.
“Now that is some trick,” Nathan said in astonishment, widening his stance and spreading his cheeks even further apart, so that he could fuck while getting fucked in turn. He pushed at the fairy’s glorious hole while the fairy pushed at his, entering him and filling him with unspeakable pleasure, sending a million lovely tingles through his ass and out his cock, which pounded away from the front while he was being pounded on from the rear—an unbelievable event, to be sure, in the long list of unbelievable events that had so recently occurred, and one that brought him right to the edge, and then right on over.
With a rapid-fast pounding, like the beats of a hummingbird’s wings, both Nathan’s and Lothar’s cocks thickened and pulsed, and then simultaneously exploded, causing the fairy to emit a blinding white glow that traveled through every atom of both of their quivering bodies as ounce after warm, white ounce of come shot and shot and shot, filling and then spilling out of two gaping, spasming holes. Moans and groans of sheer delight filled the room to the very rafters as one load after the next gushed forth.
It was then and only then that the human collapsed atop the fairy, his breath ragged, and his body dripping in sweet, sweet sweat. The fairy held on tight with his beautiful wings, while the human grasped the fairy by the waist and would not, could not let go.
“This moment will not end so long as we stay together, skin on skin, flesh on splendid flesh,” the fairy admonished with a long, low sigh.
The prince smiled. “Then do not let go, dear fairy. Do not ever let go.”
This is how it went, night after night, year after year. They needed nothing but each other, and each other is all they had.
That is until one fateful night after a long day of love-making. Because, as is common when two lovers slumber, limbs slide and glide over one another, sides bump, backs press against backs, and, ultimately, the great puzzle comes undone.
At their sudden and unintentional parting, and after so many, many years, the room once more came to life, the breeze again flowing in, blowing out the bedside candles. The two then instantly awoke from their long evening’s sleep.
With mighty yawns, they sat up, rubbed their eyes, and firmly pressed their lips together, kissing deeply and passionately for what seemed like hours, taking turns at licking and sucking at every available body part. “Well,” the prince said, “I guess I do believe in fairies, after all.” It was a joke they often shared.
“And I have met a human who lives high above the clouds,” added the fairy, as he so often did. “And I love this human with all my heart. Life is just so full of unexpected surprises.”
And it was about to get a whole lot fuller, for it was then that they heard a knocking on the bedroom door. Scratching his head, Nathan rose, wrapped himself in his sheets, and walked to the source of the pounding, not realizing his hand was no longer in Lothar’s. He swung the door open, and to his astonishment saw the face of his father—the face so much older than last he saw it.
“Sire,” the prince said with a bow of his head. “You look, you look different.”
The old king stared in wonder at his son, and replied, “Strangely, Prince Nathan, you do not.”
It was then that the prince understood what had happened. “Sire,” he said with a nod of his head, “might I guess that you have at last come to offer me the throne? Is today not my fiftieth birthday?”
The king gave a weak cough. “Though you do not look it, yes, my son, today is the day you are to attain the crown. You may now also seek a mate, to rule beside you as your mother has by me, lo these many years.”
The prince, now king, grinned widely. “Father, I have no need to seek, for I have surely already found. And I thank you for locking me up so high above the earth all these many, many years, for I would not have otherwise met my soulmate.” He laughed, and quickly added, “And that is what I believe is called an ironic twist of fate.”
The fairy, hearing the exchange, rose from the bed on wings as sheer as a spider’s web and came to a soft landing by the new king’s side. And when he held his mate’s hand, time no longer stood still as it once had. After all, love indeed does transcend time, and binds surer and faster than any bit of magic ever could. And it binds, as the saying goes, happily ever after.
Heavy Loads
I pulled into the rest stop a little past six in the morning. I’d already driven nearly eight solid hours, leaving behind the smog infused dusk of L.A. and arriving into the fog dense dawn of San Francisco. Well, nearly San Francisco and nearly dawn, anyhow. See, I still had about a half an hour to go, and I had to pee, badly. The two mocha javas I’d nursed along the way were now eager to make their exit from my aching, tired body.
I hopped out of my beat-up jalopy, had a quick look around, spotted the only other vehicle in the lot, a massive semi, and hightailed it into the can. There were two urinals, side by side, and one crapper. I headed for the first of the porcelain receptacles, whipped my dick out, and moaned with delight as a steady stream of piss hit the blue, aromatic disk below.
Just then, the door to the stall opened and out walked what I assumed was the driver of the truck. I jumped an inch, startled by the presence of someone else. Groggy as I was, however, I was now instantly alert. After all, we were alone, out in the middle of nowhere—mostly—and with no one to hear me shout—definitely—if I was to be mugged, or worse.
Fortunately, from my quick appraisal of him, I knew I had a good three inches and thirty pounds on the guy. I guessed truckers came in all shapes and sizes, sexes even, but I’d never seen a more unassuming one before that moment. Actually, truth be told, as I glanced at him while he washed his hands, he was kind of cute. Handsome even.
He was pushing forty, I guessed, with long muttonchops, an aquiline nose, full lips, broad chest, thick legs covered by tight denim, and black boots. Five eight, I’d say, maybe one-hundred-sixty pounds, sopping wet. Like I said, not the standard trucker type.
“Howdy,” he said, perhaps sensing my attention.
“Oh, um, hi,” I replied. “Good morning,” I added.
“Yep, that it is.” He turned, smiled, and crinkled his blue eyes at me. “Almost, give or take a few minutes.” He turned to look outside as the sun began its gradual ascent above the hilly horizon. “Gonna be a nice one, too.”
“Hope so,” I said, now finished with my leak. I shoved my prick back in my jeans and zipped up.
He frowned. “Don’t gotta do that so fast, pal,” he said.
“What? Zipper up?” My heart began to race. A knot twisted in my stomach, spreading in a crazy swirl and landing, ka-ching, up and through my pulsing cock. I’d never been propositioned in a men’s bathroom along an Interstate highway before. Other men’s bathrooms, sure, but those were in gay bars. This was different, somehow. Scarier. Sexier.
“Yep,” he responded, the smile returning to his handsome face. “Keep it down for a minute or two.”
I found it hard to breathe at that moment, to even think clearly, but, acting on impulse, not to mention the need for a good wank, I did as he asked. I turned, faced him, and lowered my zipper, the sound almost booming in the too small enclosure.
“Briefs,” he commented, squinting at my opened fly. “Let’s see ‘em.”
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My hands fairly trembled as I undid the button and dropped my jeans to the floor. It was obvious my cock was straining at my tighty-whities. His smile widened. He quickly looked outside, making sure we were still alone, and then undid his own pants, dropping them to the floor as well.
No underwear, just a thick—sausage thick, in fact—blunt dick, poking up and at me, with two heavy balls that hung low, low down. His cock was short and squat like the rest of him, but not nearly as unassuming. I unleashed mine right about then, not wanting to seem un-neighborly or anything. Plus, I was horny as fuck and needed to jack-off something fierce.
He moved in a couple of inches. I did the same. And then, sadly, we heard another car door slam outside. Quickly, we pulled our pants up, smiled nervously at each other, and turned to walk outside, just as a geriatric couple headed our way.
I walked to my car, the air slowly returning to my lungs, and he sidled along to his truck. I hated missed opportunities, and his was a big one, but I figured that it simply wasn’t meant to be. Besides, I had bigger things in store for me in the city by the bay—my future, for one thing.
He turned as he reached his vehicle; I did the same. “Name’s Fred,” he shouted at me.
“Max,” I yelled back with a sort-of salute.
“Maybe next time, Max,” he said, that grin of his spreading across his handsome face.
“Next time, Fred,” I said, getting into my car and slamming the door behind me.
He waved, I waved, and I started my engine.
Only, my engine wouldn’t start.
It chugged, rasped, coughed once or twice, and then promptly died. My stomach sank, yet again, and not nearly so nice this time, and then I got out and popped my hood. A slow wisp of steam issued forth, followed by a gray cloud and a nasty scent of burning metal.
“So close,” I said to myself. “And yet so far.”
I slammed the hood back down and jumped a foot in reverse. Fred was now standing behind my car, looking concerned for my plight. “Engine problems?” he asked.
“Yep,” I replied, my tummy now lurching.
“Can you fix it?” He moved in closer, until I could see his sparkling blue eyes.
“Nope, can you?” I prayed for a positive reply.
“Nope. Can drive ‘em, alright, but can’t fix ‘em worth a damn.” I almost began to cry, but then, to my delight, he added, “Though I can take you to someone who can.”
I echoed his smile with one of my own. “Really? You wouldn’t mind? I mean, don’t you have someplace to be or anything?”
“Yep, but not for a few hours or so. Got a pick-up just north of the city. My friend works downtown. I could drop you and your car off beforehand.”
“My car?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he bade me to follow him. I did, and then he opened the huge metal door to the rear of his semi. It was empty. Easily big enough for my car, which we pushed inside once he put the ramp down.
I’d never been in a truck that size before, especially with a stranger, albeit one whose dick I now had etched in my memory. Still, I felt safe with the guy. Safe and, truth be told, once-again super horny. And that’s when I noticed it, as he slid the heavy rear door back down.
Caution: Heavy Loads, it read along the protruding lower edge. I giggled at the sight of it. He laughed when he realized what I was thinking.
“That’s for the truck,” he said. “Oh, and me too, if you’re lucky.”
Actually, right about then, that’s just about how I was feeling.
We both climbed up and hopped inside the cab.
“Two rules of the road,” he said, now with a straight face. I listened intently. “One,” he began. “We drive with our pants off until we get to where we’re going.”
I laughed. “Really? Hey, maybe I’m in the wrong line of work. And two?” I couldn’t wait to hear two, naturally.
“Two, you only make out with me at the red lights.” He paused. “And at rest stops.” The grin returned as he leaned over and softly, gently placed his full lips on mine. I responded with a warm, wet tongue, which I swirled in and around his mouth, swapping spit before coming back up for air.
“Rules to live by,” I said, kicking my sneakers off and sliding out of my jeans and underwear. “And if we get pulled over by a cop?”
“We take turns blowing the guy,” he replied, yanking his pants down and around his boots. “Unless he’s ugly. Then we just fuck him.”
“Speaking of blowing,” I said. “Is there a rule against doing that while you drive?”
“No rule about that, Max,” he said as the giant beast roared to life and he moved out of the lot and onto the road, his thick cock bouncing and swaying from side to side. “Just watch out for those heavy loads, like the sign back there says.”
“Deal,” I agreed hungrily as I kneeled on the wide, leather seat and perched my mouth just above his rigid prick. He rested his hairy forearm on my back as he worked the gearshift. I rested my palm against his fat pole, slapping it, watching it sway. His thick, mushroom head glistened as I made contact, hand to warm flesh, and he moaned appreciatively.
I bent in closer, took a whiff of his crotch, which smelled like sweat and soap, and then licked the salty jizz off the head. The guy was a leaker, a sure sign of good things to come. I could feel the road beneath us, the powerful engine in front of us, and the blood coursing through the massively thick prick in my fist as I eased my mouth down and around it before taking as much of it into my mouth as I could.
“Yeah, Max,” he groaned as I worked ever farther down and around, then eased up and then down again, until I managed a rhythm akin to the pistons in the truck’s powerful engine. Gagging only intermittently, I managed to take the length and breadth of it to the back of my throat, getting almost down to his hefty balls, which I pulled and twirled in my hand. All the while, Fred pumped his prick inside my mouth, his meaty, hairy ass rising and lowering on the cracked leather seat as he did so.
All that bouncing, actually, gave me an idea. I released his balls and slid a wetted finger up to his hairy, puckered hole. Fred seemed to like this idea and lifted his rump to offer me easier access. He was tighter than a drum, but I teased and pushed and eventually worked my index finger up and in, still sucking on his impossibly fat cock, up and down, up and down, all while I pushed my finger farther and deeper inside his hot, snug asshole.
My driver’s moaning soon drowned out the engine roar. And, even though I could feel his prostate hardening with each push and shove, this, it seemed, was not how he wanted to get off. “Not yet,” he rasped. “Take it out. Take it out, Max, please,” he practically begged as I edged him ever closer with my probing finger and wet mouth.
I stared up into his blue eyes and obliged, sliding my finger out of his ass and my mouth off his mega-thick club.
“Why is my asshole the only one getting any attention?” he asked with a leer.
“Excellent question,” I replied, raising the bottom of his shirt to rub his hairy, muscular belly.
The truck was going a smooth sixty down a slight gradient as he said, “Turn around, face out the window.”
I did as was told, remaining on all fours, but with my bare ass now pointed his way. Meaning, the answer to that question was fast approaching.
“Oh yeah, now that’s a nice ass. A real nice ass,” he said, slapping me on each cheek, pulling my balls between my thighs, all the while maintaining his speed as he veered off the Interstate. His free hand, when he wasn’t switching gears, was caressing and spreading my furry ass crack. I spit into my hand and reached between my legs to wet my hole for him. “Mmm,” he groaned as he slid a finger in, slowly, easy, eagerly, all the way in, all the way to the back, rooting around up in there, much to my delight.
I gasped and stroked my cock as he pushed in, then pulled out, over and over, working my hole. One finger became two, two became three, faster, harder, as the San Francisco skyline majestically appeared out of the passenger win
dow. The buildings gleamed in the morning light as a warm rush shot through my ass, up my spine, through my stomach and almost out my prick.
“You close, Max?” he asked.
“Mhm,” I moaned.
“Not yet,” he said. “Wait. Almost there. Ten more minutes, okay? It’ll be worth it; I promise.”
Well, he hadn’t led me wrong so far. “Okay,” I rasped as he eased his triple digits out of my ass and I sat back down on the seat, still raging-hard, still, needless to say, raging-horny.
I reached over and stroked his cock back to its thick hardness and did the same with my own as we drove through the city, past endless Victorians, and up gradual inclines, until we reached what I assumed was our destination.
It was nearly seven in the morning at the top of Twin Peaks. We were alone in the narrow lot that overlooked the entirety of the city, which was laid out before us in all its glorious splendor.
I looked back over to Fred, smiled, and leaned in for a long, hot kiss. Then I jumped up on the seat and climbed over to his side, straddling him face to face, his hard cock pressed tight up against my ass. “You read my mind, Max,” he whispered into my ear before taking my lobe in between his teeth.
“Great minds think alike,” I replied, sucking and nibbling on his neck, his muttonchops tickling my cheek.
Our mouths once again joined together. His hands roamed across my back and he quickly lifted my shirt up and off. I returned the favor, revealing a thick, matted chest and eraser-tipped, rigid nipples. I pressed my body tight against his, deepened the kiss, rubbed my hard cock against his hairy, taut belly.
“Ready?” he asked, looking me deep in the eyes.
“For anything, I suppose.” And I meant it.
“Then turn around; enjoy the view.”
I knew what he was getting at, and gladly rose up and turned around, perching my ass just above that thick cock of his as I leaned forward and stared down at the beautiful scenery below.
Sam quickly reached beneath his seat and retrieved a rubber, which he then slid on his fat tool. He spit into his hand, lubed up his cock, as well as my hungry hole, and grabbed at my waist to lower me back down.
